Mending of the Soul
by SilverWolf7
Summary: Thranduil story of how he makes it through after the death of his wife.  Different perspective of all those stories done in Legolas' point of view.  At least, I hope it is.  First chapter is finally here and up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer – I don't own any recognisable characters. Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and the twins Elladan and Elrohir, all belong to J. R. R. Tolkein. I do own Melamir and any other named Elves in this story.  
  
A/N – Sorry about the characters above the names of some Elves in this fic being missing. I have not yet figured out how to get them to work when I put the story online....They always manage to disappear....so I am sorry if that annoys anyone. If anyone can tell me how to fix this problem, I would appreciate it.  
  
I made this fic after I found that, yes, while Thranduil might be seen grieving, all stories about the death of /or the departure of Legolas' mother centred more on the son rather than the father. I am a Thranduil fan and believe him to be a good, loving father. In those fics, most see Legolas as seeing the death. In this, no one but who brought her body back saw it, so no flash backs....  
  
This is hopefully a different angle to the usual stories written about the topic.  
  
Mending of the Soul  
  
Thranduil entered his private rooms, got out of the robes that showed his station as King and crawled under the covers of his bed, burying his head in the pillow his wife had used to lay her head on.  
  
A week had passed, a whole seven days, and he had not yet slept, barely ate and had been pushing himself to his limits in his work, needing to keep busy. He couldn't care about anything but the hole in his heart, the missing half of his soul that had died with his beloved wife.  
  
A knock on the door was heard through the room but he ignored it, thinking it was another of his guards trying to rouse him to get up and eat something. He buried his head further into the pillow as the door creaked open.  
  
"Adar?" Came the soft, questioning voice of his only child. He heard the soft tread of Legolas' feet as the young Elf moved closer to the bed. A touch to his shoulder by a warm hand was felt, but it lacked comfort though it shouldn't.  
  
"Are you trying to get me to eat something Legolas?" He asked, his voice sounding angrier than he meant it to.  
  
"No....I wanted to see if you were alright." Legolas replied, making Thranduil finally turn his head away from the pillow to glare at his son.  
  
"I am not in the mood Legolas. Give me whatever food you might have brought here for me and leave!"  
  
After a careful glance, he realised that his son truly had no food on him. Looking up into blue eyes that were much like his own, he saw that silent tears were gathering in Legolas' eyes. Thranduil sighed. "I am sorry, ion. I am not very good company as of late and didn't want to hurt you further."  
  
Legolas' eyes bored into his. "I miss her too. I miss her terribly, but I am trying to find a way through my grief. I am afraid of losing you too, Adar. You are cold to the touch..."  
  
With that said, Thranduil had the misfortune of seeing his son break into sobs. He sat up and gently brought him into his embrace, hugging him tightly. "I will not fade Legolas. I just need some time." Letting go, he moved a hand under his chin so that he could look into Legolas' eyes. He put on a weak smile. "Why don't we go get something to eat?"  
  
Legolas swiped at his eyes, smiled slightly back and nodded.  
  
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Thranduil had eaten more than he had in what seemed like a very long time and the sensation of food in his stomach was making him feel slightly ill. He ran a hand down his face trying to rid himself of the feeling but didn't succeed. He looked over to Legolas who, in his adolescent years, would usually be eating a lot more than he was. He noted that he young Elf ad only managed to eat a little more than he, himself had.  
  
Almost groaning as a cramp was felt in his stomach, he decided the best thing to do would be to go to bed. He grumbled his wish to his son, angry at his pained insides.  
  
Legolas nodded, got to his feet and bowed slightly. "Good night, Adar." He stated, before wandering off to parts unknown.  
  
Thranduil got to his own feet and made his way slowly back to his rooms. He changed into his night clothes and slipped back into bed. Once again, he spent a sleepless night glancing at the place where his dear wife used to sleep.  
  
He refused to cry.  
  
A/N – Yes this part was very small, but this is more an introduction to the actual story, a prologue if you will. Hope you all enjoy so far anyway. Please r/r. 


	2. Chapter One

Mending of a Soul

Tirdîn watched as Thranduil stared blankly at the stack of papers in front of him, not even lifting a finger to do any of his work as King today.

The funeral of Queen Melamír would be later that day, so at least his old friend would have that to go outside for. Sighing, he wondered if Thranduil would be able to make it through the actual ceremony of burning that was usually done at funerals? He had been watching, silently and with much fear, as his friend from childhood began to wither away with lack of food, huge black circles under his eyes from lack of sleep...had an extremely worried and grieving son he was ignoring.

Tirdîn's worry had increased every day for the past week since they had brought Melamír's body back to the palace. Thranduil had literally been working non-stop, only to come to a grinding halt now.

"I can't do this." Came a small, almost meek, statement from the mouth of the King. It had made Tirdîn jump slightly.

"You are needed today. Your people are expecting you to at least show up. Someone else can speak if you so wish."

Thranduil raised his head, dull hair, usually a thick yellow colour, hung limply about his shaded face. Once sharp and wise blue eyes were now dulled and had lost their spark. If anything could make a friend of Thranduil cry, it would be to see the despair that was so sharp for more than a few seconds.

"You knew her just as well as I did in personality and all that matters. Would you speak for me? I...I cannot."

Tirdîn nodded, not able to find words at that moment to tell his dear friend that he too felt uncapable. Thranduil, Melamír and he had grown up together and their parents had always known that one of the boys would end up bonding with the girl.

He had found love in another, a maiden living in a close settlement called Bragolanna and had bonded with her after a years engagement. This before the other two realised that they loved each other as clearly as everyone else could see.

He and his wife had both come to the palace after word had come of the awful passing of the Queen. He had only left his friends side when Thranduil went to his bedchambers. Even then, he stayed by the door listening.

Thranduil hadn't even cried yet. If anything, this worried him the most.

The two guards posted at the doors to the room had been trying to coax the grieving King into eating something. So far, only Legolas had managed to do so, and that just once, last night.

With a small sigh, Tirdîn watched as Thranduil's head landed with a heavy thud on the desk he was at.

"Have you been sleeping?" Thranduil asked, his voice laden with such thick exhaustion that for a second, Tirdîn thought Thranduil would just fall asleep right where he was.

"Yes, but not too well. Bragolanna has been a great comfort to me. I cannot see how you have been able to cope with the loss of Melamír?" He did see truly...Thranduil wasn't coping. Not well in any case.

Legolas, as an adolescent boy was taking the loss of his mother better than his father was. Being young was probably the reason for that. Legolas was past that age where it was alright to cry, but old enough to somewhat understand the concept of death. His first horse had died not too long ago. As such, he had been told to let his emotions out.

Legolas had been doing disappearing acts all over the place, not wanting anyone to see him in such a state, but any Elf with their normal hearing knew he went to his room and cried.

The same could not be said for Thranduil. It was as if his grief was too much for tears. They simply would not fall. Thranduil did confess that he did not want to cry, but that could not be the reason why? Tirdîn hadn't wanted to cry either, but he had. And still did.

A ragged sigh was heard then, drawing Tirdîn from his thoughts. "I want to sleep but cannot. I am so weary, Tirdîn."

Sighing again himself, the dark-haired Elf walked over to his friend and began to gently massage the part of the back that was easily accessible to him. "Perhaps if you relaxed you would sleep?" He stated, before Thranduil shrugged his hands off of his back.

"Not now...after. Wait until after."

After the funeral, he meant. Tirdîn found himself blinking back tears and hugged his friend close. "I am so sorry. I miss her too."

"I know...." Came the mumbled reply, before Thranduil raised his head from the desk and looked over his shoulder. "It is time for me to get ready now. Could you go tell Legolas that he needs to change into his black mourning clothes.

Tirdîn nodded, left his friend to go to his own chambers to get changed and went in search of the young Prince.

He found Legolas glancing blankly out his window, staring at the trees surrounding the palace that was built into the side of the hill for added protection for the people.

"Prince Legolas? I have been sent to tell you that you should get ready now. It is almost time."

The young male looked to him and smiled sadly. "Thank you Tirdîn." He stated, before getting up off of his seat and going towards the black clothes spread about the end of his bed, neatly awaiting him to don.

Tirdîn left the boy to change into his own funeral garb. Bragolanna was waiting patiently for him, already dressed for the sad occasion.

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Beautiful. It was the first word that sprang to his mind as he looked at Melamír's body on the pyre. Her head had turned slightly to one side as she had been lain out across it with her best and prettiest gown on. It looked as if she was sleeping peacefully, her eyes closed.

Thranduil knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that they would never open again, yet he reached for the thread that was usually present inside himself that connected them together to ask her to open them, but was met with nothing.

Legolas carefully made his way through the growing crowd towards him, stopping at his side, tears fresh on his young face.

Thranduil pulled the boy into a hug, before making him stand in front of him, his arms holding tightly the small yet quickly growing body of his son against him, before letting his chin rest on the hair Legolas had inherited from him. Well, the colour at least.

People began to mill about, trying to comfort one another in the grief of the loss of their Queen.

Thranduil didn't understand. Shouldn't they be trying to comfort him? He was the one that was suffering, the one that hurt the most! He thought that it must have been because he was the King and strong. He silently began to laugh, but stopped himself as Legolas turned in is arms to look frighteningly up at him. If he kept that up, he would go histerical any way, not the best image a King could show his people.

Finally Tirdîn came towards the pyre, torch angrily flicking sparks of flame towards Melamír. Thranduil took a step forward, taking Legolas with him, the thought of protecting his love from the fire racing through his head.

She was to be burnt, so as her spirit could be sent off to the Halls of Mandos. Her spirit was already gone though, it was customary however that when the person is reborn in Valinor, that they only have the one, perfect body to live in. This body was marred by the marks left from Orc weapons.

But still so beautiful.

Tirdîn began talking about her, how he was and always had been her friend. He talked about her habits, both good and bad, her personality that had attracted Thranduil to her in the first place and her love of nature.

Once Tirdîn began to cry Thranduil began to understand something that seemed to have only just sunk in. This would be the last time he saw his beloved...until he sailed West.

A wave of fear swept over him and, Legolas once again at his side, he took a slight step forwards, intent on joining her and burning as well.

Legolas followed, one of his arms snaking about his, as if to keep him here. Thranduil suddenly found that breathing was difficult to do, as his lungs felt trapped beneath a squeezing hand, the same hand that wrapped about his heart and tried to crush him.

As the torch lowered to her bodyhe had to turn away. He couldn't watch. As the acrid smell of burning flesh reached his nose, he had enough. Not caring who was there to witness, he spun about and headed towards the palace. He could not stay t ere a second longer, lest he jumped oon the burning pyre himself.

He made his way as quickly as he could to his bed chambers, intent on falling asleep and forgetting all about the nightmare that was suddenly his life.

With a flurry of black, he slammed the door closed behind him and looked about his room. It was suddenly too big for him and everything in there, from the bed to the amoire in one corner reminded him of his noow gone wife.

A sudden blind anger stole over him then. How _dare_ she leave him alone in the increasingly inhospitable forest.

With a shout of anger, he stormed towards the first bit of furniture he was near, the couch, and begun to punch at it. He took a cushion from one of the corners, held it up to his face and, not caring if anyone could hear, screamed into it.

It was unfair, so unfair! Why did this have to happen to him? Why is it always the ones he loves that are taken away from him. First his father, then his mother had sailed, leaving him to rule alone.

For a long time, he had been bitter about that, then Melamír had shown up at the castle for a party for the coming of Spring and he had been instantly smitten with her.

A few years later and they had bonded. Then Legolas was born! Oh, how happy he had been.

He stopped his thoughts from when his beloved had lived and fell limply on to the couch, his face still buried in the cushion. A fierce pain ripped its way through his chest and a strangled cry ripped itself from his throat.

A hand was felt on his back then, gently rubbing in some form of comfort that didn't work as well as the person thought.

"It is alright to let it out, Thranduil. Cry, scream, hit me if it makes you feel better."

So it was Tirdîn. "I will never feel better! Nothing will help. I don't know what to do, what do I do?"

Tirdîn's weight was felt along his back, a hug of sorts. "The only thing you can do, Thranduil. What I said before! What your son has been doing, what _I_ have been doing. Let it out. If you don't the grief will take you and you will fade. Legolas told me earlier today that you promised him you would live."

Thranduil unburied his head and glanced at his best friend. "At first I didn't want to...now I don't even know if I am capable of letting go. I just was at the funeral of my wife! I am never going to see her again..."

He was going to rant, perhaps hoping that it would help a little, but Tirdîn lifted him into a full hug then and whatever had been holding back the emotions that had failed to fully show.

A moan escaped the lump in his throat, before it was cut off as a sob of pain forced its way out of him. It was soon followed by another, and another and, as a gentle hand began to caress his yellow hair.

For a while no tears would come but his shoulders heaved with the force of the emotional release he was finally getting. When at last the first tears fell, he was in such a state that he never felt the presence of Legolas enter and hold him and Tirdîn close.

He didn't know when the tears stopped falling. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep before they did.

A/N - Oh my! Wow, finally updated this baby. This chapter was at first two and I have been thinking over whether to join the two together or not and decided it to be a good idea! The next chapter is also written. Just not typed.

Sorry this took so long people. I lost the exercise book I had written it in and have just found it. Still hope you enjoy!

Thanks go to the four of you who reviewed. Merlyn1382, Barbara Kennedy, Gilraen, Daughter of Elrond and Lady Janelly. Glad you liked the small prologue.


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